What She Deserves
by DARecruit
Summary: Quinn Berry-Fabray has done something she can't forgive herself for and it's up to wife Rachel to show her that sometimes what we deserve most is love and understanding. And when that doesn't work, there's always less conventional methods. Faberry. Warning: Story contains consensual adult DD spanking.


_Summary: Quinn Berry-Fabray has done something she can't forgive herself for and it's up to wife Rachel to show her that sometimes what we deserve most is love and understanding. And when that doesn't work, there's always less conventional methods. Faberry. Warning: Story contains consensual adult DD spanking. _

**A/N: So this story has been on the back burner for ages now, always taunting me to write it. So I did. It's a spanking story (because of course it is) but drastically different than anything I've ever written before. I hope you give it a chance and enjoy it. **

**Love from,**

**DARecruit**

* * *

**What She Deserves**

Quinn Berry-Fabray paced back and forth in the spacious master bedroom of the Upper East Side apartment she shared with wife Rachel as she waited for the brunette to get home, her stomach twisting with guilt as she replayed this morning's altercation in the kitchen. Well, altercation was the wrong word. The couple hadn't fought; Rachel had asked her what was wrong, almost pleadingly, and Quinn returned her concern with biting words that she deeply regretted.

Quinn hadn't known it at the time, but this was a storm that had been brewing inside her for weeks now. Work was stressful, more so than usual, and Quinn had fallen back on old habits. Instead of seeking help and comfort from her wife, she isolated herself, repressing her feelings and ignoring the problem. Rachel had of course noticed the change immediately and tried to get Quinn to open up about what was bothering her, but that only made Quinn even more tight-lipped. As time went on, her stress manifested itself as anger, not helped any by her wife's well-meaning but incessant prodding. This morning had simply been the straw that broke the camel's back.

It had just been too much—the question, the pain in big brown eyes, the concern laced in every word, the hurt in her own heart that she _knew_ was felt in each beat of the one next to her. Quinn felt vulnerable, and that wasn't something she ever handled well. In an effort to rid herself of that perceived weakness, she did something she hadn't done in _years_.

"_Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell you I'm fine? Fuck off Man-Hands!" _

_Hazel eyes went wide and head snapped up to stare horrified at Rachel. She expected anger (so much anger), hurt, or at the very least, disappointment. But Rachel wasn't displaying any of that; instead, her face was awash with concern…and love. _

_Tears welled in Quinn's eyes at the way her beautiful wife was staring back at her. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve _Rachel_. _

_They had come a long way in the twelve years since high school. _Quinn_ had come a long way. She had gone to college and grew up some, discovered who she truly was. It was during a visit home at Christmastime of their sophomore year that Quinn had unexpectedly bumped into Rachel Berry. An offer for coffee was given and in a secluded corner of The Lima Bean, Quinn had _finally_ confessed the biggest secret she had ever had—Quinn was in _love_ with Rachel and had been from the very first moment she saw her walk through the doors of McKinley High in ninth grade. It had been a long conversation that had ended in crying on both their parts, but it had been the beginning of the most special thing Quinn had ever known. And in the span of five horrible seconds, Quinn had completely ruined everything. _

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it," came a voice from behind her, yanking her unapologetically from her thoughts, and Quinn spun around to meet Rachel's loving eyes.

Those _eyes_. They could make Quinn weak in the knees, but right now they were the death of her. She didn't deserve those eyes staring at her like that. Rachel seemed to know her thoughts because it was in that moment that she stepped forward and enveloped the blonde in a tight embrace.

Quinn gave into the hug, letting all the pent up emotions and stress pour out of her in waves as she broke down in tears. Her guilt swelled inside her belly like a tidal wave; she should be the one comforting Rachel right now, not the other way around. With that thought, Quinn let her arms slump to her sides and tried to take a step back. Rachel only held her tighter.

"R-Rachel," her voice cracked, "You s-should _hate_ me right now. What I said to you this morning was unforgivable and I don't deserve—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Lucy Quinn," the tiny brunette commanded, finally releasing her hold on her wife. She took a step back and glared at the blonde, pointing a chiding finger in her face. "You and I both know what you _deserve_ and it's not my hatred. I love you, Quinn, and nothing will ever change that—certainly not a rash comment said in the heat of the moment under extreme distress."

"How can you say that? After what I called you…Rachel, I was _awful_ to you," Quinn argued. Rachel was so _good_—too good for Quinn. She was willing to let Quinn off far too easily; Quinn couldn't stomach it. If Rachel couldn't or _wouldn't_ hold her in contempt, Quinn would do it for her.

"Ughharrgggg!" Rachel all but screamed, throwing her hands up and beginning to pace just as Quinn had been doing when she walked in. "You are so STUBBORN! Do you _really_ think so little of me, Quinn, that you believe a name you used half a lifetime ago has any impact on me _now_? That a childhood insult would upset me, when it hasn't held any power over me for more than a decade? The fact that you seem to believe that pisses me off far more than you calling me Man-Hands _ever_ could!"

Rachel finished her tirade and spun to glare at her beautiful, _stupid_ wife. "I have half a mind to put you over my knee right now and beat some damn _sense_ into you! And _then_ we can deal with your guilt."

Quinn could only blink oafishly at her ticked-off spouse, feeling all-at-once incredibly foolish, not to mention embarrassed. Rachel was right. Quinn had let her damn pride and bullheadedness get in the way of seeing reason. Rachel was not some fragile princess incapable of helping herself, standing up for herself—and she never had been. She was a beautiful, strong woman, both inside and out, and she could handle a childish name thrown at her in an out-of-control moment on Quinn's part.

"What upsets me _most_ about this entire situation is that you held all of this in until it got to be too much. It's a horrible habit of yours, my love. You should have _talked_ to me. I could've helped you sooner. But you always want to bottle things up—you have an incredibly annoying and _misguided_ sense of chivalry, thinking you need to spare me, _protect_ me, from the things that upset and stress you. Eventually you explode, and that is exactly how we get _here_, every time."

Quinn's shoulders fell as she let out a forlorn sigh. She gave Rachel a single nod before hanging her head. She was always amazed at Rachel's ability to put into words _exactly_ what she was thinking or feeling at any given moment. "I know," she acknowledged, her voice rife with pain and self-reproach. "I'm sorry. I don't…I don't know why it's so hard to open up sometimes."

It was Rachel's turn to sigh as she closed the distance between them and then reached up to lift the blonde's chin. Brown eyes met hazel and Rachel gave her a small smile, wiping at the tears cascading down porcelain cheeks. Pink lips moved in to kiss away a salty trail before a soft, delicate hand intertwined with the blonde's slightly larger one.

"Do you want to tell me what's had you so out-of-sorts these last couple of weeks?" Rachel asked as she led them to their king-sized bed. She sat on the edge of it, pulling Quinn closer and watching her with patient, understanding eyes. They were nearly eye-level, even with the height difference, thanks to their high-set bed frame.

Quinn's own eyes were focused on their entwined hands. A surge of tears welled up beneath her lids, blurring her vision. Rachel's hands were soft, small, and _feminine_. Why she _ever_ used to call the petite girl _Man-Hands_ was beyond her—and why she did so _today_, after not having thought about that awful name in more than a decade…well, that was inexcusable.

"Love?" Rachel brought Quinn back to the present. The blonde only shook her head, briefly meeting Rachel's eyes before hanging her head once more.

Rachel took in a calming breath, letting it out slowly. She gave a simple nod to the bowed head of her beloved and said, "After then. Bring me the hairbrush please."

Quinn's heart thudded in her chest and her stomach dropped in an instant as she snapped her head back up to stare at Rachel. Her wife's request wasn't unexpected—she knew it was coming, that's just how their relationship worked—but it never made _hearing_ those words any easier. She'd never completely gotten over her embarrassment of wanting—_needing_—to be spanked, but there was no denying the truth of it. Quinn could be incredibly hard on herself and had a difficult (if not impossible) time forgiving herself for mistakes made, _especially_ when those mistakes involved one Rachel Barbra Berry-Fabray. They had found out long ago that the surest way for Quinn to feel better and be able to move on was with a trip over Rachel's knees.

It had begun nearly nine years ago, during their first year of dating, as a half-joking, half-exasperated suggestion on Rachel's end. Rachel had recently told Quinn she loved her for the first time, and while Quinn had been over-the-moon ecstatic about that, she also couldn't shake the unimaginable guilt she felt over the hell she put Rachel through those four years inside the walls of McKinley. None of Rachel's assurances had done any good and finally after a week of Quinn's fretting, she had exclaimed one night, _"Why don't I just put you over my knee and give you a good spanking?!"_

Quinn had been shocked at first, then embarrassed and even slightly outraged. Not that she was necessarily _opposed_ to spanking—the couple had incorporated it into their lovemaking months before, and they had quickly learned that while Rachel liked gentle, playful spanks, Quinn wanted it to _hurt_. But this—_this_—was something different. Still…there was an undeniable need inside of her that _yearned_ to let go of control and be taken care of by someone she loved—safe to be vulnerable and in a place where she could release all her tumbling emotions, thoughts, and feelings. Bolstered by those thoughts, Quinn had asked Rachel for exactly what she needed. _"W-Will you? For real though—I want…I _need_ it to be a real one. I need it to hurt, I need to be able to cry and feel pun…punished, so that I can forgive myself. Please, Rachel,_" she remembered asking, and Rachel had gazed at her with so much love and understanding. She had then taken Quinn by the hand, guiding her into their bedroom and over her lap.

"Rachel, I don't…" she began as she tried and failed to maintain eye contact. She couldn't, not with the way Rachel was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

"Do you want to safeword?" Rachel asked and Quinn shook her head vehemently. The brunette sighed and rolled her eyes, having a good idea of what Quinn's problem was. Pressing onward, she said, "Well if you don't want to safeword and you don't want to talk about what's bothering you, you need to do as I've asked and bring me the hairbrush."

"Rach, that's not—I need—the hairbrush isn't…isn't enough," Quinn fought hard to get that much out. It was never easy to tell Rachel what she needed out loud in these situations, especially face-to-face. Perhaps it was her pride, but it was always so much easier to be vulnerable when she was over Rachel's lap. Rachel knew that and while she would sometimes let Quinn get away with so few words, more often that not she made Quinn tell her _exactly_ what she needed.

Groaning as she was pulled between her lover's knees and her chin captured, Quinn knew this wasn't one of the times she'd get away with it.

"What do you need, baby?" Rachel asked, forcing eye contact with the beautiful blonde. Tears fell freely from hazel orbs and the sight broke Rachel's heart. She always hated when Quinn was hurting, especially in times like this when the hurt could have been drastically lessened if only acknowledged sooner.

"I-I-I need the b-belt," Quinn managed to say.

"Absolutely not," Rachel didn't miss a beat. They'd played with the belt in the bedroom but she would _never_ use it on her partner for punishment. Quinn knew that, but that had never stopped her from suggesting it on any occasion when she was feeling particularly guilty. Rachel never once agreed and she wasn't about to start now, and told Quinn as much.

"P-Please, honey. I n-need more than the—the brush. I _deserve_ m-more," the blonde insisted, eyes begging.

"Lucy Quinn Berry-Fabray," Rachel's voice took on a stern edge, "You are going to go over my knee and I'm going to spank your bare ass with the hairbrush until you can forgive yourself. Whether that takes five minutes or thirty is completely up to you, but I _promise_ you my hairbrush will get the job done. Now, go get the damn thing before I decide to spank you for your stubbornness too!"

Rachel turned a stunned Quinn in the direction of the bathroom and sent her off with a hard swat. She smirked at the small yelp and glance Quinn threw over her shoulder as she hurried for the requested implement.

Quinn took a brief moment to gather herself while she was in the bathroom. Her hand snaked back to rub at the sting left from Rachel's hand. _Damn_ that had hurt—and it was only going to hurt more before all was said and done. That sting, coupled with Rachel's stern voice still ringing in her ears, and the anticipation of her spanking to come had Quinn's tummy fluttering, and not just from nerves. Rachel was _hot_ when she got all stern and commanding. The blonde squirmed, rubbing her thighs together, desperate to find purchase, but Rachel's voice calling her ruined any chance of that. Groaning, she snatched up the wooden hairbrush and ran out of the room.

Quinn was flushed when she returned to stand in front of Rachel. Her heart pounded and her sex clenched. As much as she enjoyed spankings—even the pain of one—during lovemaking or those times just because, she _hated_ them when they were given for correction and relieving guilt. Those never failed to make her feel like a teenager again, young and in-trouble (it didn't matter that when she was _actually_ a teenager she was never punished this way, nor was she as a child). Still, it made her feel smaller, less in control. Not that she minded not being in control—in fact, she very much liked when Rachel took the lead, as it wasn't their everyday dynamic—but the _initial act_ of giving up that control was always hard.

Rachel placed a hand on either side of her lover's hips, pulling her in until Quinn was once more standing between her knees. She then held her right hand out, palm up, and waited for Quinn to pass off the brush. Quinn did so, avoiding eye contact, and Rachel allowed it in that moment. For what she had to do now, she would need it and so, setting the brush on the bed beside her, she once more took up Quinn's hips.

"What is your safeword, Quinn?" she asked and the blonde immediately supplied it. _Peppermint_. When asked once why she chose that word specifically, Quinn had said it was because on the day they had bumped into each other and gone to get coffee—the day their lives were forever changed—Rachel had ordered a peppermint chai latte. That story had always stuck with Rachel and it was one of the many reasons she adored Quinn. The blonde noticed even the smallest of details about her and remembered them forever—even moments that happened in high school of things she _never_ would have expected the beautiful blonde cheerleader to pay attention to.

"And you understand that you can use it at any time and I will stop immediately, right? And that needing to do so isn't a failure on your part, or something you need to be upset over?"

Quinn fidgeted, eyes trained on Rachel's left knee—the knee she would eventually go over—and nodded in response to her wife's question. Her hip was then tapped—a warning—and a simple order given: "Eyes." Hazel flicked up and her voice was soft. "Yes, I understand."

"Good girl," Rachel offered that small praise, knowing Quinn often needed it in these moments. Now the harder part, the part Rachel hated the most. As much as she always wanted to just skip this part and get right to the spanking, there was a ritual to be followed. She had learned years ago that not doing so would always prove to do more harm than good (three failed attempts with disastrous results had taught her that) and it wasn't something she ever wanted a repeat of.

"Why are we here, Quinn?" Rachel asked as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her wife's sleep pants, pushing them down her toned legs until they fell to the floor. Her black panties followed after, leaving Quinn in nothing but her faded and fraying _Yale_ T-shirt.

Quinn shifted her weight from foot to foot as her eyes pooled with tears once more; she had mostly gotten them under control while in the bathroom, but that reprieve was now gone. She tried with little success to maintain eye contact, knowing that was expected of her in this moment, and was relieved when Rachel offered help in the form of steady fingers holding her chin up.

_This_ was the moment she hated, the moment she had to relinquish control and submit to Rachel. It wasn't easily done, standing trapped in front of Rachel's knees, _painfully_ aware of her state of undress (made all the more noticeable by the way her T-shirt fell _just_ below the top of her ass crack, leaving nothing to the imagination), and being pierced with those gorgeous, caring, _unfaltering_ eyes while Rachel waited for her answer.

Why were they here? Quinn _wanted_ to say it was because she called Rachel Man-Hands and told her to fuck off, but that wasn't the main reason and she knew it. Blinking back her tears, Quinn took a deep breath and then locked eyes back on Rachel's.

"We're here because I didn't ask for help when I needed it. I didn't let you in or tell you what's wrong. I withdrew inside myself and ignored the problem. I bottled up my feelings and then I lashed…lashed out at you—"

Voice hitching, she averted her gaze, gathering herself. It was harder to return to those brown eyes, but she couldn't—_wouldn't_—hide away now. As much as she wanted to, Rachel deserved more. Another deep breath was taken, then hazel met brown.

"I-I called you something I promised you—promised _myself_—I would never call you again. I br—broke that promise to both of us. I'm so _so_ sorry, Rachel." Quinn's body sagged as the last word left her lips, as if she had just put down a heavy load after holding it up for far too long. There was a momentary relief as the weight was lifted, but then the pain from carrying it set in.

"Yes, we are here for all of those reasons, my love. I'm upset that it took us getting _here_—after all the times I asked and _tried_ to get you to open up, and you ignoring your emotional needs until they burst out of you in a fit of rage—for you to even _acknowledge_ that there was a problem," Rachel agreed, her voice gentle even if her words were firm. Quinn let out a choked sob and her fidgeting increased.

Taking pity on her, Rachel took hold of Quinn's wrist and drew her forward and over her left knee. Quinn sucked in a sharp breath as she was upended, her top half coming to rest on the bed behind Rachel as her wife adjusted her lower half into the perfect position. She couldn't help wiggling, her legs dangling between Rachel's spread knees and unable to reach the floor. It was a position she would never _truly_ get used to but one she knew well.

Rachel took a moment to push Quinn's shirt up and out of the way, then rested her hand on her wife's perfectly sculpted ass. She loved Quinn's ass. She was always touching it, kneading it, rubbing, caressing, and of course, spanking. Oh how she _loved_ to spank Quinn, whether it was a playful swat as the beauty walked by, or during sex, spanking her love just because or whenever she asked—even now, when she was about to spank Quinn for punishment and relieving guilt. While this last type wasn't her favorite, it was perhaps the most intimate of the lot. Indeed, every punishment spanking served to reaffirm their bond, their unconditional love for one another, and always brought them closer together.

"I've already forgiven you for everything, baby. It's time for you to forgive yourself," Rachel said as she rubbed Quinn's clenching bottom a few times. Her left arm came to wrap over and then around the blonde's waist, holding her close, as her right rose in the air before flying back down to deliver a crisp swat that stung but didn't _hurt_.

Quinn gasped anyway and squeezed her eyes shut, sending tears streaming down her cheeks. The first swat always surprised her, even if it never truly hurt. More fell, firm but not hard, the sharp crack of bare hand on bare ass reverberating against the walls, the sound growing larger and louder as if accumulating into a massive storm that loomed ominously above her.

The sting she now felt would, in another context, be quite enjoyable to the blonde; however, the warm tingling on her skin at present only made that wriggly feeling in her tummy from being "in trouble" intensify.

Rachel paused after delivering thirty swats—one for every year of Quinn's life—and surveyed the wiggling bottom before her. The once milky-white skin had taken on a pale blush; that coupled with the fact that Quinn kept crossing and uncrossing her ankles was enough for Rachel to know it was time to move on to the brush. Picking it up, she rested it against her lover's pink skin for a moment, letting Quinn squirm under the weight of it. Then, without warning, she raised her arm and brought the brush back down with a loud _Thwack! _

Quinn flinched at the impact, sucking in a startled breath. She let it out with a hiss and then gritted her teeth as Rachel set about a brisk pace of medium-force swats that landed in no discernible pattern so Quinn could never anticipate where the next one would fall. This part always shocked her, stopping any tears that may have been falling as her body tried in vain to acclimate to the burgeoning sting.

The brush painted cheeks first a dusty pink, then more rosy. Little gasps and grunts escaped Quinn's lips despite her stubborn determination to remain stoic. It was a valiant effort on the blonde's part, one she tried to uphold each and every time she found herself in this position, but never managed. Rachel wouldn't allow her to, instead pushing her to and just over her limit.

Hips twisted and bottom squirmed, legs giving an occasional kick as the focus turned to tender sit-spots. Rachel readjusted her hold, tucking Quinn further under her arm, and then peppered the area with a flurry of hard swats. Four, five, even six spanks would land one after the other without pause, all to the very same spot, before a new spot was selected and given the same treatment. Quinn's resolve to remain silent broke halfway through the second set of spanks, bursting forth with a long string of 'ows'.

"Remind me again, why are you getting this spanking, Quinn?" Rachel asked, neither stopping nor slowing the hard series of swats now burning Quinn's upper thighs.

"Mmphhh," Quinn whimpered, gritting her teeth and squeezing eyes shut. She heard Rachel's question and knew she had to answer, but her senses were overwhelmed right now. The brush thudded against her skin, the crack of it like gunshots in her ears, while the pain sparked sharp and stingy before turning to burning embers that stoked a growing fire. Her legs bent upwards, wanting desperately to tuck all the way up while hands struggled to remain in front.

"Ow, Ow, owwowwhooowwwww!" she cried aloud as her mind screamed at her to speak. It felt to her as if it had been ages since Rachel asked her question, though in reality only seconds. She wanted to cry but wouldn't yet—_couldn't_, not from physical pain alone—but god_damn_ this hurt!

Rachel slowed the pace (perhaps not noticeably to Quinn), to allow the blonde time to think and get her words out. She knew Quinn was overwhelmed at the moment—that was the point.

It was all part of their ritual. Quinn was never good at dealing with or expressing strong emotions, certainly not when they got to the point of exploding, and she needed a way to focus that energy and release it. The pain from a spanking worked wonders as a stress reliever for the blonde, allowing her mind to settle and sort her feelings—and thus have an easier time confronting and talking through them. It had the same effect during a punishment spanking, but Quinn needed the added benefit of Rachel talking to her—reminding her what to think and focus on while making her answer questions back—so she could let go of all of her guilt and negative thoughts as well.

"Ow, I…I'm getting—mmpphhh—sp…s-span—Ow! Fuuu—B-Because I didn't—" Quinn cried out and kicked her legs more frantically. It fucking _sucked_ to have to try and get her thoughts out while Rachel rained fire down on her ass without stopping even for a second. "—FuuucOW! Didn't come to you f-for HELLPPP!"

"Right. You had an issue and wouldn't talk to me no matter how many times I asked—" Rachel focused on the left sit-spot. "Instead you ignored the problem until it was too much for you—" The right side was now attacked. "I could have helped if you had only come to me. You know I am always here for you to talk to, hold you—_spank_ you, if that's what you want or need—" Quinn's thighs were now under fire, making her howl and thrash around. Rachel continued on, "You kept telling me you were fine and—_You. Were not. Fine_!"

Her words were finished off with four of the hardest swats yet, and then she paused. Quinn had been squirming all over her lap, legs kicking up and even blocking her bottom at times, and she was breathing heavy through her steady stream of yelps and gasps. Rachel knew Quinn was on the verge of tears, but she would have to push her to the point of sobbing for the blonde to reach the catharsis she needed.

"Oww! OW! Mmphh—I…I'm s-sorry!" Quinn wailed, eyes burning with brimming tears.

"Why else are you being spanked?" Rachel pushed further. While she herself was more concerned with the events that led up to Quinn's outburst this morning, she knew her wife felt horrible over it and wanted—_needed_—it to be properly addressed now. Quinn wouldn't be able to truly forgive herself if it wasn't, and Rachel couldn't bear the thought of her love still harboring guilt over it after this spanking was through.

Quinn squirmed as guilt twisted in her stomach like a red-hot knife. She felt Rachel rest the hairbrush back on her bottom and couldn't help clenching her cheeks in apprehension. She knew Rachel wouldn't start up again until she answered the question; she was giving her time to sort through her feelings and find her words.

"I…I c-called you Man…Man-Hands," Quinn managed in a broken voice thick with anguish. "And t-t-told you to fu—fuck off. I'm so s-sorry, honey."

Giving in to her tears, the blonde buried her head in her arms and cried. She should have said more—told Rachel that she knew it was wrong of her to speak out of anger, no matter the circumstance. It had been unfair, disrespectful, and just plain _mean_. Rachel had been concerned and only wanted to help and Quinn returned that kindness with scorn.

Yes, she should have said more. She _wanted_ to say more…but the words wouldn't come. She could only cry and hope that Rachel understood.

Rachel's heart broke at her wife's tears. It was never easy to see Quinn upset or in pain, especially (and quite literally) at Rachel's own hand. She hated to make Quinn feel worse physically on top of her emotional pain, but she knew it would help the blonde feel better in the end.

"Yes, you lashed out in anger. You kept all of your feelings and stress locked up inside until you couldn't anymore and then took it out on me. That's not okay, Lucy Quinn. There are better ways to tell me that you are upset and don't want to talk about something. Calling me names and telling me to fuck off is unacceptable. I am your wife. I treat you with respect and I deserve the same in return. Is that clear?"

Quinn let out a pitiful wail that was half whimper, half sob and nodded her head frantically to Rachel's words. "Y-Yes, m—ma'am," she choked out. She wanted Rachel to know just how much she understood her words and was taking them to heart.

She didn't often answer her wife that formally, and it wasn't something that Rachel had ever demanded—Quinn gave it freely, to show her that she was taking the situation seriously. And it just felt _right_ in times like these. Quinn had seriously messed up. She needed this spanking to feel better, yes, but it also served to restore balance in their relationship. She had overstepped this morning and shifted the scale, tipping the power more on her side; Rachel spanking her leveled that power back out.

"Mmm," Rachel hummed in response. She wasn't a huge fan of being called _ma'am_ by her wife, but understood Quinn's reason behind it. It wasn't often that she was given the honorific, even during punishment, and knew Quinn needed to do it for her own benefit more so than Rachel's.

Rachel lifted the brush, surveying the tensed bottom across her knee. The pause had allowed the deep pink color to fade into a dusty one, and Rachel winced in sympathy as a sharp sting blossomed once more over those beautiful cheeks.

Quinn squealed as the spanking began anew, shocked at how much more it seemed to hurt _now_ than it had moments ago. The brief interlude had given her just enough time to cool down and now Rachel was quickly raising the heat to scorching.

Rachel didn't say any more, intent on delivering the main portion of the spanking. She was hitting hard, raining swat after swat down on the rapidly reddening backside, and she needed to pay extra close attention to the state of Quinn's skin. She wanted to cause enough pain for her lover to reach her breaking point and maybe even be sore for a while afterwards, but she did _not_ want to hit so hard as to bruise her. It was a delicate balance—an art form, if you will—that had taken years to truly master, but it required total concentration. She couldn't lecture, spank, keep Quinn properly positioned with arms and legs out of the way, _and_ focus on the state of the wiggling bottom all at once. Besides, by this point in the punishment she had always said all she needed to, and the only thing left to do was spank until Quinn let go. That was achieved faster and much easier when both parties were focused on the physical act without any added distraction.

Quinn whined and wriggled, cried and kicked, all the while Rachel continued to set her ass on fire. "Ow! Ow! Ah—fuuuu—OwwHOWooww! Rach…n-not—mmphh—not so h-h-hard!" she pleaded during a particularly painful series of swats. It seemed to fall on deaf ears and as the burn grew to near unbearable, she couldn't stop herself from bending her knees and pointing her toes—effectively covering her most sensitive area from the wrath of that damn brush. "_Please_ Rach, it—AH—it h-hurts!"

Rachel stopped mid-swing and lowered the brush with a sigh. Quinn didn't always plead like she just had, but when she did, it never failed to break Rachel's heart. Eyes scanned the bright red skin peeking out from underneath Quinn's feet and legs. She knew it hurt. It was hurting her too.

"Do you need to use your safeword, love? There's no shame in that and you know I'll stop the moment you say it," she said gently, rubbing Quinn's back in soothing circles. And it was true, she _would_ stop if Quinn told her to, but that was the _only_ way it could happen.

Because as much as she wanted to, Rachel couldn't stop. Not now. Quinn had yet to give in to the spanking and the sobs she so desperately needed, and if Rachel stopped _now_, nothing would be solved. Quinn would still be carrying the weight of her guilt, having not gotten that release, nor the closure to put this whole debacle behind them. If _Quinn_, however, decided she had had enough, that would be the end of it. But that decision was entirely up to her.

"I d-d-don't—No…No safeword," Quinn stammered, shaking her head vehemently.

"Are you sure, Quinn? I'd never think any less of you for needing to use it," Rachel pressed. Quinn was stubborn to a fault and prideful to boot. She never made things easy (especially during punishments), not one to want to appear weak, _ever_. It was Rachel's job to push and make sure Quinn was being truthful with herself. Just as it wouldn't solve anything for Rachel to stop before Quinn let go, neither would Quinn forcing herself to continue when she was mentally and emotionally over it.

"I—I'm sure," Quinn maintained even as her voice cracked. "Just _please_, honey…not so hard." She then whimpered as Rachel's hand moved to her legs, pushing them back down to dangle freely.

"That's not up to you, my love. You need to think about the position you're in right now and the decisions that got you here—" she tapped her lover's red bottom firmly for emphasis, "—and figure out what you're going to do so you don't wind up over my lap for it again. Focus on that and let me worry about the rest," Rachel finished with more bravado than she felt. Quinn was _so_ close to letting go, she knew it; she wanted to finish this as quickly as possible—for both their sakes.

The punishing rhythm resumed once more and for nearly thirty seconds, the only sounds in the room were the sharp crack of wood on bare skin and Quinn's pained cries.

"What are you going to do so this doesn't happen again?" Rachel broke the "silence" with her question.

Quinn's ears picked up on Rachel's voice right away; they had been straining to hear in anticipation of this question, but now that it was here, she wasn't sure what to say. She was overwhelmed with pain, guilt, and a healthy dose of self-pity for the state of her poor bum (why did Rachel insist on hitting so _hard?_), so much so that her mind was drawing a blank on an answer.

The blonde gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shut out the loud _thwack_ of the brush reverberating off the walls and inside her eardrums. She needed to think.

"Ow! Ow! OW!" she yelped, a feeling of helplessness washing over her. God this hurt, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. Rachel's question yet again felt like it was asked eons ago. Needing to say _something_, even if only to stall for time, Quinn willed her brain to form words—any words.

"Oh! Ow—um—OUCH! I—ah—S-Sorry! I'm sorry!" was what fell from pink lips.

"I know you're sorry," Rachel said, moving her focus to the very center of Quinn's sit-spots. She hit both cheeks with every sharp whack, making Quinn howl. "I need you to tell me what you will do next time so we don't end up _here_," she emphasized her point with thunderous swats that echoed in the air around them.

"OW! No—gah, I-I don't! Fuuu—Mmmmphh—Ow, Ow. I don't—" Quinn struggled to find words (the correct ones this time) but all her brain kept thinking was _'Fuck this hurts'_ and _'I don't know'_.

"NOOO! Owwhoow! H-Honey—" A hand flew back, wanting desperately for the brush to stop falling, but it was deftly caught and pinned behind her. The brush thudded continuously, always in the same spot, driving every thought from her mind, except—

And then it hit her. "T-Talk! TALK!" she screamed, and all at once, she felt the shift inside herself. "I n-need to t-t-talk to y-yoouuuu." Quinn took in a shuddering breath and when she released it, she was sobbing.

She had been crying before, but now she was _ugly_ crying, big, fat tears spilling down her cheeks to mix with the snot dripping from her nose. She coughed and sputtered, but the brush never stopped. She counted four more searing swats before her body went slack over Rachel's knee. She cried for all she was worth, lost in her release, and if Rachel was saying anything to her in this moment, she didn't hear a word of it.

Rachel stopped swinging the moment she felt Quinn go limp across her lap, tossing the brush behind her now that it was no longer needed, and releasing her hold on the blonde's captured arm. The hand that had just delivered such a thorough paddling now stroked a hitching back in soothing circles while Quinn continued to sob out the last of her guilt, stress, and pent-up emotions.

"You can always come and talk to me, love. I _want_ you to talk to me. Hell, you can _text_ me if you can't say it out loud. And you know I'll always make time to listen and help you, whether it's practically or just emotionally," Rachel began after her wife's sobs quieted down to steady tears once more. "But I can't do that if you don't let me in—and I _especially_ can't when you push me away every time I try."

"I know…I don't mean to. I _do_ know that you're here and I can come to you. I'm sorry I didn't, honey. I promise I—I'll do better," Quinn said hoarsely, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. She grimaced at the action, knowing it made her look childish. She _felt_ childish right now with her face a teary, snotty mess and bright-red, punished ass on full display as she lay still draped over Rachel's knee being lightly scolded. Still, she couldn't bring herself to mind very much; it was a freeing feeling. And more than that, she felt loved and taken care of. She felt _special_.

"I know you didn't mean to, Quinn," Rachel assured the blonde. "I want you to understand that it's okay if you can't or don't want to talk about something too. You just have to tell me that. You could have said_ 'You know what, Rach, I'm stressed and don't want to talk about it yet. Give me some time'_ and I would have given you that. But _please_ don't insist that everything is fine when it isn't, or get angry with me any time I ask you what's wrong. Okay?"

"Yes, okay," Quinn said tearfully, feeling incredibly foolish. Pointed out like that, it was such an easy and obvious thing to do— and she hadn't ever _once_ thought to do so. "I'm _really_ sorry."

"It's okay, Quinn, you're forgiven," Rachel said simply. "I just need you to realize what you could have done differently—and what you _should_ do in the future when a situation like this presents itself—" her hand moved down to rest over red, heated skin for emphasis, "—because if we have to do this again any time soon, I promise you I'm going to go a lot longer and a lot _harder_. Are we clear?"

"Yes—Yes, ma'am. We're clear!" the blonde agreed hastily, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She was all too aware of the weight of Rachel's hand against her sore ass and was sure that at any second, that hand would lift to deliver a few more swats to really drive her point home.

"Good girl," Rachel praised. "That said, I think you could have used a stress-relief spanking weeks ago. That's my fault—I should have brought it up with you and suggested we do that. I'll do a better job of speaking up when you're in a funk or so stressed out. You can always say no, of course, but I know it can be hard for you to ask sometimes. I know it helps you let go of all those big, negative emotions you are so fond of holding on to—the ones you always wind up over my lap for anyway."

"Rach, that's—I—Sure, but, uh…" The blonde frowned and couldn't help but squirm uneasily over her lover's lap. Rachel's hand still rested on her butt, the expected swats not forthcoming; if she was planning to finish the spanking with extras, she normally would have done it by now—and without the abrupt change of topic. The fact that she hadn't, _and_ hadn't given Quinn permission to get up as she usually would otherwise, made the blonde nervous. "Are you—I mean, is—is it over?" she finally asked.

"Oh!" Rachel gasped with a pang of guilt, realizing she left off the final part of their ritual. "I'm sorry, sweetheart! Yes, it's over. You can get up whenever you're ready."

Quinn didn't need to be told twice; she was up and clambering fully onto the bed behind Rachel in seconds. She stretched out on her stomach, head on her pillow, and when Rachel laid down next to her, Quinn melted into her side.

"Thank you, Rach, for—for doing _this_, for me. I love you. I'm—I'm sorry I'm a lot to deal with sometimes," Quinn said, her voice muffled against Rachel's chest. She was forever grateful that her wife was willing to participate in this sort of relationship, but part of her always felt a bit silly that she needed this. And she couldn't help but worry about the toll it took on Rachel—she didn't imagine it was ever easy for her wife to spank her to tears. And yet, Rachel had never _once_ told her she couldn't or wouldn't do it.

"You're nothing that I can't handle—especially when I pull out my hairbrush," Rachel teased lightly, running her fingers through golden hair. "But seriously, Quinn, I love you—all of you—and that includes your flaws. God knows I have mine."

"Yeah, but you don't ask me to spank you for yours," Quinn pointed out. Rachel snorted.

"Well, if I did, I'd never be allowed off your lap," the brunette said wryly, earning a tearful laugh from Quinn.

"Rachel."

"You aren't and never have been a lot to deal with, love," Rachel said, kissing Quinn's temple. "You have big emotions and don't let them out all the time like I do. I still say if you'd just allow yourself to have a good, old-fashioned diva storm-out, you wouldn't have a need to bottle everything up. But that's not you and never has been, and that's okay. _This_ is what works for you—and us—and I will always take care of you, baby."

The tears that Quinn had managed to get under control were coursing down her cheeks once more, and a warm feeling settled in her heart. This was her safe place, held tightly in Rachel's arms, ass hot and stingy, while she was told she was okay. _They_ were okay, and always would be.

The warm feeling spread downward, as did Rachel's fingers. Quinn squirmed as they ghosted over her tender skin, nails scratching and hands soothing. A sharp inhale of breath was taken as fingers trailed even lower, then goosebumps erupted at Rachel's hot breath in her ear.

"Besides, it's _super_ hot having you over my lap while I'm setting that naughty ass of yours on fire. It always gets so nice and red and _hot_," Rachel husked, nipping at Quinn's earlobe. Her fingers delved between the blonde's legs, through abundant wetness, to the hard little nub. Flicking it lazily, she said, "I think there's one more thing you _deserve_, young lady."

Quinn groaned and opened her legs wide. "Oh, yes, _ma'am_!"

The End.

* * *

**A/N: And that's a wrap, folks! I truly hope you enjoyed it. Let me know in the comments what you thought and if you'd like to see more either in this universe or similar. **

**PS: For those of you that read OA, I've got a decent portion of chapter 14 written and am hoping my muse will stick with me long enough to finish and post that chapter soon. Like, next few weeks. Fingers crossed. **


End file.
